You Can Always Go Home
by chezchuckles
Summary: A Dash Companion. Fourth in the Home series. The marriage proposals.
1. Chapter 1

**You Can Always Go Home**

* * *

_a Dash Companion_

for Jess D. Sparklemouse:  
May you find  
all the things you seek.  
May you always  
be home.

* * *

For nearly six weeks, she tells herself that it doesn't have to be for long.

When Castle opens the door to his loft and steps over the threshold with the baby in the carrier - their son, Dashiell Alexander _Castle_ - the only thing that pushes her inside is the thought that she can always go home.

If she can't figure out how to be both mother and partner, if it's too hard right now, she doesn't have to stay. She can issue a tactical retreat, hole up with her son in her apartment for a few months until she gets the hang of sleeplessness and feedings and jeez, not _dropping_ him, and then she and Castle can try it again.

She consoles herself with that and moves in after him, her eyes on Dashiell, reminding herself.

_I can always go home._

* * *

**_1._**

She sleeps so hard between feedings that Castle has to nudge her awake. She panics into consciousness feeling like she's being ripped up out of water, gasping and startled and shaking in the too-early morning hour.

"It's the blood loss," he murmurs when she can't seem to get it together. "They said it'd make you tired for a while."

He's cradling Dashiell close, his finger nudged in the baby's mouth to forestall his howling, watching her like he's afraid he won't be able to wake her next time.

Kate scrapes a hand down her face and then reaches for the baby, trying to cuddle him and fumbling at her shirt. It takes Dashiell a long moment to latch on - he's still fussy about feeding, about everything - and then suddenly that fuzzy, frustrating exhaustion sharpens to a distinct and brilliant sense of _right._

She blinks down into Dashiell's face, swaying forward over him, her arms heavy, her body heavy, her whole life pinpointed to this moment.

She forgets to breathe.

And then Castle leans against her shoulder and strokes his finger over the top of Dashiell's head. She feels it like Dashiell must feel it, rippling tendrils of sensation, and the connection between them intensifies to an all-encompassing circle, an infinity loop, electric and suffusing.

"What does it feel like?" Castle murmurs softly, barely a breath in the air.

She can't even pull her eyes away from her son, and if she weren't so tired, maybe she wouldn't be quite so honest.

"It's strange. It's. . .relief. Like coming down after we. . ." She gasps as Dashiell gums her, gives a little laugh and squirms at the sudden pain. Instinct has her reaching down and flicking his cheek, shifting away, and the baby startles and stops chewing to pop his mouth off of her, surprised, staring up at her with those absorbent eyes. His fist against her breast flares out with little fingers, curls in, back and forth, hypnotic. She repositions him and he beings to suck again. "It's weird. And he keeps stopping to play."

Castle laughs and rubs his palm at her back, settles against the headboard. She turns to look at him and she can't understand how they got here, talking about breastfeeding and both half-naked but completely sexless. It's depressing.

His eyes are on Dashiell still, and he lifts his hand to trail his fingertips over the baby's head, down across his ear.

Her eyes slam shut and suddenly she's so tired she could collapse.

"Marry me."

She jerks and meets his gaze, and her mouth drops open. He's flushed bright pink and he clenches his jaw, looking both stubborn and fierce.

Breastfeeding and half-naked and sexless. It's already too much like his last marriage, isn't it?

"No," she says softly, but she leans in and presses her mouth so gently to his, a caress of tongue and lips until the harsh line of his profile softens and melts.

"No?" he murmurs, still too hopeful.

"No, Castle. There's no need." She untangles her hand from Dashiell and touches Castle's cheek.

He closes his eyes.

* * *

**_2._**

She's curled on the couch, in and out of it, listening for her son who will wake at any moment. Dashiell passed out about forty-five minutes ago, and this is the longest he's napped since the hospital. The doctor said it might be like this, that he might need time to adjust, but it's been nearly nine days. Forty-five minutes at a time with wild and inconsolable crying in between - and it really should not be like this.

The television is on low and Alexis seems to be haunting the room, in and out as she studies for a test, but Castle sits with Kate and keeps a heavy hand on her ankle, weighing her down as they wait.

They both know it's coming.

"Should we call the pediatrician?" she murmurs.

"You think something's wrong with him?"

She bites her lip. "I don't know. Is this right? - No, don't call." No, but yes? "Did you see the welts on his face?" She curls her fingers around her mother's ring, desperate for answers, for _help_, but her mother is so far gone.

Just Castle.

"I saw," he sighs. "I cut his fingernails again, and I put those sock things back on his hands. Maybe he's just scratching at his face."

"Maybe."

She has Castle, but she doesn't yet know what to do with Castle. How to make it all fit neatly. She's pretty sure that things are slipping through the cracks and they've only had Dashiell home nine days. But for the life of her, Kate can't figure out exactly _what_ is falling through. Still no coffee, the baby is fussy but he does at least breastfeed now, his sleep habits are irregular and few and far between, and there's all this crying, but-

"Kate?"

She rouses and finds Castle studying her like some endangered species - a lot of awe, a little fear, some sense that he might never see her again.

Oh, that's not good, is it? This - this between them - is probably what's falling through the cracks.

She shifts on the couch and sits up beside him, their shoulders pressed together, and she lets her body lean into his. He lets out a dragging breath, and he carefully strokes his fingertips along her knee.

Things really are coming apart at the seams. She's unraveling. She didn't know it would be this hard, this unending, this vivid and noisy and unrelenting. She's not any good at this and she's still so very tired, and the baby really needs to figure out this sleep thing before one or both of them lose it.

And Castle is just so careful, tiptoeing and reserved and handling her. She doesn't need to be handled. She just needs. . .help.

No. Really, she needs sleep. Everything would be fine if she could just sleep. And some confidence. Like she can actually do this. Like she's not going to scar the kid for life or permanently damage his psyche because this whole thing feels entirely unnatural and she's got no one - _no one_ - to tell her what to do or how to do or why nothing works.

"You're a good mom," he says suddenly.

She closes her eyes and presses a hand over them, hiding it from view, sinks into herself on the couch. Her other hand curls up at her mother's ring, nearly choking herself with the chain. Castle just - zeroed right in on that. So easily. It must be all over her face.

"You don't give up," he says quietly, and his voice sounds a little intense. Like he's afraid she won't believe him. "That's what's so amazing about you. You're going to do whatever it takes. Dashiell is so lucky to have you as his mother."

She lifts her head and gives him a smile that is entirely too watery, but he just smiles softly back.

"Well, at least you can afford his therapy bills," she tries to joke. "When I scar him for life."

He shakes his head at her. "Hey, don't worry about it. Look at Alexis. Goodness knows she has every right to be messed up. But sometimes love really is enough to prevail."

She lets out a long breath at that and tries her smile again. A little stronger. Sure. Love is enough until it's not. Until there's something really wrong with Dashiell or with her or she gets shot doing her job, stabbed in an alley-

"You can do it, Kate."

She takes a deeper breath in, and his words hit their target, unerringly, because his words have always managed to find her weakest places and shore them up. "Thank you."

He shrugs like it's no big deal, but it really is. It really is.

Kate wishes she knew of a way to give that back to him. Clarity. The belief that everything is going to be all right; they'll make it.

"Hey," she says, feels the sentiment churning in her overtired, anxious heart and tumbling straight out of her mouth. "Hey, you know I love you."

She sees his eyes lighten, his whole body ease. He grins at her then, something of the shy little boy in him, and then he chuckles.

"You must really be tired."

She gives a faint smile back, and really, she really is. Really. No one told her just how tired she was going to be.

"Think you're exhausted enough to say yes?"

"What?"

"To marrying me."

"Not that tired," she mutters, rolling her eyes.

* * *

_**3.**_

Castle wakes alone in bed, hears the sharp and angry cry of his son from the living room. He gets up quickly, shrugging on a shirt as he goes. He meant to set an alarm this time because Kate's suddenly the one who wakes up - sometimes before Dashiell can even cry - and he really thinks she needs more sleep. He's not gotten up with the kid since. . .

Eight days ago? He's three weeks old, and Kate has been at it nonstop.

When the hallway opens up, Dashiell's cries are piercing, and Kate is pacing the floor, her steps clipped and measured. She's trying to sway with the baby, but Dash won't be soothed.

"Kate," he says carefully.

She turns to him with a desperation in her eyes that floors him. "Nothing I do works at all. He won't sleep, he won't eat, he doesn't need to be changed. Nothing should be wrong with him. Nothing should be wrong."

Castle reaches out and gently pries his son from her arms, a little surprised by how quickly she gives him up, like she can't wait to get rid of him. He presses his lips to Dashiell's soft ear, cups the back of his head. The red marks are fresh on his cheeks, the side of his neck; maybe that's what's keeping the baby up. "Hey, there, my man. Let's give Mommy a break, okay?"

He hears a noise and lifts his eyes to see Kate just standing there, a hand at her forehead, the other on her hip like she's frozen, and her gaze is trapped on Dashiell. And yeah, the kid is still fussy, but his angry cries have disappeared, lowered in pitch to just the restless, unhappy ones.

"Okay, buddy. Help me out here. Gotta prove to Mommy that it's not that bad. Just sleep for me," he murmurs quietly. He raises his head and nods for Kate to sit on the couch, take a moment, and she slumps back, her hand scraping through her hair and tugging.

"This is a disaster," she mutters.

"You're doing fine."

"Look, he's already winding down and you've had him for thirty seconds. I've been up and walking him for two hours."

Two hours? "You should've come and gotten me."

"You haven't had much sleep either," she says. Her hand sinks down now to cover her eyes before she tilts her head back against the couch in defeat. "I don't know how you do it so easily."

"It's only because I'm still loose and half-asleep. He feels it and his body starts to relax as well. The longer you have to go at it, the worse it is for both of you. Learned that the hard way."

"I'm terrible at this." She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes and groans. "I can't even figure out why his face keeps breaking out. The pediatrician's nurse called me back; she said it could be baby acne. But I looked it up online and it doesn't look like that."

"I was thinking maybe allergies?" he says quietly. "I'll switch to that Dreft detergent - it's chemical free, no dyes. Maybe he's breaking out because he's allergic."

She blinks and scrapes her hand through her hair again. "Okay. Yeah. Let's - try that. I didn't think of that. I'm just - I'm totally worthless at this."

"Kate," he huffs at her, lifting a knee to nudge her with his toes. She startles and looks at him, and he shakes his head. "You're kidding me, right? Here. You take him, watch how he'll fall asleep for you."

He hopes.

She looks like she might refuse, but he eases Dashiell over into her arms and sinks down on the couch beside her. The baby stirs and squirms for a moment, but he's a momma's boy already, Castle can tell. His pale pink mouth opens and he gives a pathetic little mewl, but his long lashes are fluttering shut, his little fist coming to clutch at her shirt. He always does that - hangs on to her, keeps her close. The welts are still red, but they'll figure it out.

He feels Kate take a deeper breath beside him. "You've got the magic touch."

He grins. "Not gonna happen like that ever again. We just used up our one free pass as new parents."

"Oh, shoot. We should've saved it for when we really need it."

He watches Dashiell struggle against sleep, still not quite completely out, and he traces a finger over the boy's forehead. That movement makes the baby startle and his eyes open, and they both hold their breath until Dash sinks back under again.

"Oh, Castle, you nearly blew it," she whispers, lifting her eyes to his with a tender smile.

He gives her a crooked one back. "That used to make Alexis drop right off. But we'll learn what to do for Dash too."

"Steep learning curve."

He's not sure what else he can say in the face of her pessimism, so he just watches their son sleep in her arms, the late hour and the darkness of the loft conspiring to knock Castle out as well.

The edges have just begun to blur when she sighs. "How was it when Alexis was a baby? With Meredith? Did she. . ."

Meredith. "Uh. I - do you really want to know?" This can't be a good idea.

"Yeah. Give me some parameters. Because you're right - Alexis turned out great. So Dash has you, the man going for Father of the Year award, but how bad can I get, how low is the bar here?"

He cocks his head at her, wonders if brutal honesty at nearly one a.m. is really the best way to go. But she'll see through any attempt at evasion, and this is so not the time to be messing with her, even if she _is_ teasing.

But Kate already beats Meredith by a long shot. If he were keeping score.

Which he's not.

"Meredith loved being pregnant. She had everyone's eyes on her; she could do no wrong. But as soon as Alexis was born, and the focus shifted to the baby, she wasn't happy. I didn't know how to pay her enough attention and also figure out how to be a parent, and instead of trying, I guess I cut her out of the loop. She didn't like babies that much and she didn't know what to do with the crying and feeding and schedule. So I did it."

"All?"

He shrugs.

Kate's fingers smooth Dashiell's knee, his socked foot, and he watches the baby as well.

Maybe he shouldn't have been quite so honest. Maybe she really didn't want to know. "Too much?"

"No, no. I. . .didn't realize. I was joking but. . ." Her head lifts and she gives him a studying look. "Is that why you always go get him before I even get a chance?"

"You need your sleep," he murmurs. She nearly died in that hospital, nearly died because she gave him a son, a kid she wasn't really gung-ho about in the first place. And he'd promised her that she wouldn't have to worry about it, wouldn't have to stress over it.

"Are you trying to cut me out the loop?" she asks, and he doesn't hear any accusation, just that careful and deliberate focus she's always had. "Are you expecting to have to do this alone?"

He grunts and runs his hand down his face. "I asked you to marry me, Kate. Does that sound like I'm trying to cut you out of the loop?"

She snags his hand and draws it away from his eyes; he looks at her but there's very little hope for a different answer. She's cradling his face with her hand, and he forces himself to just not ask. Not in so many words.

"It's not a trap," she says quietly, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip.

He frowns. "I'm not looking to trap you, Kate. I-"

She silences him by pressing her thumb to his mouth, huffing at him. "Did I say that? I meant you. I'm not going to trap you into a third marriage just because we have a kid together."

He frowns deeply and pulls back from her touch with a growl. "Isn't that one of the best reasons to get married?"

"No," she says calmly. "Did it work with Meredith?"

"You're not Meredith," he says intently. He's never - they haven't gotten down to the part where they talk about things like this, about why his marriages failed or why she can't seem to let anyone close enough to do real damage. Is this where it starts?

"Castle. We'll do this at our own speed."

Her speed, she means.

But he's good with that. He will do whatever she wants him to.


	2. Chapter 2

**You Can Always Go Home**

* * *

**_4._**

Castle finds his son wide awake in the bassinet beside their bed; Kate's asleep at least, but he can tell it's a light and surface sleep, so he eases out from under the covers. He slides his hands under Dashiell, silently begging the baby to just keep quiet, and brings the skinny little thing to his chest.

He escapes the bedroom and pads barefoot down the hall, nudges up the thermostat a little more. Dashiell is squirming against him, little whimpery protests, but it's not the angry cries or the pitiful ones either. Alexis was such an easy baby; Castle had no idea how easy until now.

"But you're worth it," he whispers to his son, turning his body to shield the baby from the sunlight pouring through the living room windows. "I know, I know. Terrible way to wake up, isn't it? So bright."

Dashiell rubs his face against Castle's shirt and he palms the kid's skull, his hand practically dwarfing the boy's head. He's long, but he was three weeks early, and so now at four weeks old, he's still got that narrow face and the stick limbs of a newborn.

Kate's worried over it, but Castle remembers how thin Alexis was too. Added to that is the way Dashiell constantly moves, burning up energy, always fussing or crying or squirming, and it's no wonder the kid hasn't rounded out yet.

"Hey, wild man. Guess we should've known how feisty you'd be out here too, huh? Never letting mommy sleep."

Dashiell reminds him so much of Kate. All that nonstop energy, and the way his eyes absorb emotion, soaking it up and brimming with it. He remembers sitting across the conference room table with Beckett and reading her whole life just in her eyes, an easy mark despite the grim facade. Dashiell has that too, but it's unguarded and naked - there are no walls around his heart.

No walls at all.

The responsibility of his son's vulnerable heart thunders through him, and he stops in the middle of the kitchen with a clutching in his chest, breaths shallow.

His hands are tight on his son and he has to make an effort to loosen them, to keep from startling the baby. He brushes his mouth to the boy's temple and wonders how in the world he can possibly keep Dashiell innocent and unbroken and not wounded.

Like his mother.

Castle feels the burn of it in his throat and he turns around, still cuddling the boy at his chest, heading back for the bedroom. He shouldn't wake her, but he has to. He can't help it. He wishes it were easier, any of this, but this is what they have and he's tired of apologizing for it, tired of hemming in his love to something more appropriate and acceptable. For his son's sake, he won't do it anymore.

He sits on her side of the bed with Dashiell held against his chest and his little head bobbing as he tries to squirm, and Castle reaches out a hand to Kate's shoulder and tries to at least wake her gently.

She sucks in a breath when she rouses, jerking, but her eyes open on him and her hand raises to curl around Dashiell's little socked foot. Her face is still smooth and content with the last of her sleep; she even looks like she might be smiling at him.

"Hey, he need me?" she murmurs.

"No. I - I do."

"Castle?" Is that concern in her eyes?

"I want. . ." How does he explain? How much he wants to be the one standing beside her as her heart finally heals, how he wants to play a part in that for the sake of their son.

She starts to sit up, her hands reaching for Dashiell, and the wild and clutching need that possessed him starts to fade.

But not the truth it imparted.

"I want us to get married," he says finally. "He deserves that. You deserve that-"

She's got the boy now even as Dashiell wriggles and his little legs kick. "Castle," she says softly, and he feels her fingers wrapping around his wrist. "Oh, Castle. That's very sweet."

He's not expecting that answer, not really, and he's surprised too by the soft kiss she pushes into his mouth. Her tongue traces the seam of his lips in a move that has him opening for her in a heartbeat, the need reawakening in his guts.

She's stroking his waist and snaking her fingers under his tshirt, plucking at the waistband of his pajama pants like they can actually do anything here, and he might combust if she doesn't stop that wicked thing with her tongue.

Dashiell gives a whining noise and they break apart, both staring down at the baby and breathing hard, and Castle recovers first, scrapes a hand down his face.

"Was that still a no?" he mutters.

She laughs softly, a little breathless, and lifts Dashiell up to her chest, soothing the baby by stroking her fingers along the dark hair at his skull. The boy wriggles against her and lets out a plaintive cry, fists hitting her collarbone, and Castle waits.

Castle waits, but she doesn't say anything.

* * *

_**5.**_

"I have an idea," he says carefully.

Kate tilts her head and bounces with Dashiell down the hallway, watching Castle as he stands at the threshold to the bedroom. "What? I'm open to anything."

"I did some research online. Sometimes the colic. . ."

She winces as a particularly terrible cry comes from their son, and she curls her arms up so that he's against her chest again. The shift in position puts his mouth against her neck, and it's just so sad, he's so terribly _pitiful_, and it makes her whole body ache for him. Her little boy, her poor baby.

Thanksgiving was a disaster, despite the fact that her father came over and they had this great conversation about her mother and how much her mom felt overwhelmed at the beginning too. It's not even that anymore; it's just how helpless she feels in the face of her son's misery.

"Sometimes what, Castle?" she prompts, her hand cupping the back of Dashiell's head to keep him from flipping out of her arms. It's like he's trying to get away from it, trying to squirm right out of his own body.

"Formula," Castle blurts out.

Formula for what? She lifts questioning eyes to him and he hurries into the room.

"Feed him formula and sometimes - it takes longer to digest, it's more complex a substance - sometimes it works," he finishes. "Sometimes switching to formula can ease the colic."

"But the doctor said that breastfeeding him was supposed to cut down on his chances of having colic."

"Well, it's not working, is it?"

"It's spectacularly not working."

"Kate, if you don't want to let. . .I understand. The bonding thing. I just wonder if we got the hypoallergenic formula. . ."

She hesitates and Dashiell rubs his face against her skin, giving a piercing cry that brings Alexis to the top of the stairs. Kate bites the inside of her lip and sways with Dash, but her arms are shaking because she's been holding him so long now, and he's got to be so very tired, and yes, okay, anything. She'll try anything. "Go get the formula. There's a pharmacy open all night, a couple blocks-"

"Yeah?" Castle breathes out. "Really? Okay, okay - I'll go right now."

She watches him jerk forward and move past her in the hallway and he stops for just a moment at them, leans down to brush his lips over the top of their son's head. Her hand comes up and makes a fist in his shirt and she can't even stop it; they need this to work.

"Hurry," she mutters, feels her eyes suspiciously bright, but she clamps down on it. Castle nods and then his mouth is on hers in a fierce kiss that makes her realize how grateful she is that she's not alone. She's not alone in this.

And then he's out the door.

"Kate?" Alexis calls.

She gives his daughter a smile, or tries to at least. "Sorry. Go back to bed if you can. I'll take him to the bedroom."

"No, don't do that," Alexis hurries out. "It's fine. I just wanted to see if you needed anything."

"We're okay," she says softly. Alexis seems unsure, but she finally turns around and goes back to bed. Dash is twisting in her arms now and Kate has to clutch at him, her heart pounding as she nearly drops him, and she resumes her pacing.

"Oh, Dashiell, baby, it's okay," she murmurs, pressing her lips to his head. "It's okay, sweetheart. Daddy's gonna go get something that might help you, my sweet boy."

And once she starts, she can't stop. She speaks the words in every language she knows, hoping somehow they'll pierce his agitation and the colic and let him feel how very much she loves him.

For one instant, Dashiell goes still, as if listening to her, and she hums it right into his ear, nonstop and breathless and devoted. "_Volim te, volim te, volim te."_

That's how Castle finds them when he comes back, Kate now propped up in the hall, her body curled around Dashiell's like she can shield him, the words pouring out of her, and their son finally, fitfully, asleep.

"I've got it," he says quietly. "What do you want to do?"

"He won't be out long," she breathes. "Go ahead and make a bottle." She eases slowly away from the wall and follows him to the kitchen, still swaying Dash since the drag of gravity seems to soothe him somehow.

"You don't mind?" Castle whispers. "And maybe it's formula just at night or naptimes?"

"I don't care what we have to do," she says, shaking her head. "If it works. I will do anything."

He nods and she sees that his hands are shaking as he measures out the formula. They've been on edge for five weeks; she feels like she's in the middle of a war zone when it comes to sleep. And yet, after all the misery at night, Dashiell is such a happy thing in the morning, so sweet and so active, constantly seeking and exploring and making sounds. She can already see his little personality, and she knows if they could all get some sleep, it would be so much better.

Castle shakes the bottle, his finger over the top to keep it from leaking out, and she watches the movement, almost mesmerized.

"Wait till he wakes?" he asks.

She nods but already she can feel Dashiell stirring, his little fists curling and releasing at her chest. She realizes that she and Castle haven't said two words to each other outside of conversation over what to do about the baby, and she loosens a hand and holds it out to him.

He takes it like a lifeline, squeezing, and he comes in close, the bottle and the baby between them. She feels the ghost of a kiss on her neck and then it's like he has to rest there, breathing with her as they wait.

She releases his hand when Dashiell whimpers, pats the baby's back, watches Castle for a moment as he brings the bottle up. "Ready?" he says, a crooked smile on his lips.

"Yeah. Pray it works." She shifts Dashiell to the crook of her arm and he cries, squirming and immediately red-faced, his eyes squeezed tightly shut like he can't bear to open them. Kate takes the bottle of formula from Castle and teases the baby's lips with the nipple. Dash's mouth opens in a thin, exhausted wail, his gums showing, fists moving, and she can't seem to entice him.

But he's probably too angry, too tired to even realize. Castle takes the bottle out of her hands so she can hold on to Dash, keep him from twisting right out of her arms, but his attempts aren't successful either.

"Wait. He likes to be up against my shoulder," she offers. "See if he'll take the bottle like that?"

When she shifts him back up, propped a little high, she turns her back so Castle can get to him, feels his forearm resting on her shoulder as he tries the bottle again. Castle cups the back of Dashiell's head and she pats his back, makes soothing circles with her fingertips, and suddenly there's silence.

Eager sucking, and her son's body seems to melt against her. "Oh, Castle, you got it."

He moves around her now, the bottle propped in one hand at her side as Dashiell sinks down into her shoulder, his cheek pressed hard at her collarbone even as he feeds. Her hand comes up to cover Castle's over the baby's head, and their eyes meet.

"He's taking it."

"He hasn't been getting much when he feeds," she admits. "That's why he's up all the time. He's got to be so hungry, but then the colic. . ."

Castle nods and they stand in the kitchen, swaying together, still holding their breath, their bodies close and warm and vibrating with exhaustion. Castle's chin dips at the same moment she leans in, and their foreheads bump together, both of them giving out little puffs of laughter.

"Ow," he says softly. "You have a hard head."

"Hush," she smiles to herself. "I'm tired and you're a good pillow."

"I'm a terrible pillow," he reminds her. True. But it's so nice like this. She opens her eyes and Castle's are closed, so she goes ahead and sinks into it as well, listening to the sounds Dashiell makes as he sucks on the bottle.

Castle lifts up first, but it's only to switch hands, and then he's wrapping his now free arm around her and pulling both of them against his chest. She rests there, her fingers cupping Dashiell's head and soft ear, her own cheek against Castle's neck.

"He's halfway through," he murmurs. She breathes out and watches the baby, feels him squirm half-heartedly, feels his little fingers splayed out at her skin. "It's almost gone."

And then it is.

Dashiell pops off the bottle and Castle takes it away slowly; Kate holds her breath and keeps making circles on the baby's back. Dashiell twists his head and his face comes to her neck, a long feathery sigh, and then his arms draw into his sides, his body wriggling down.

"He's not crying," Castle whispers.

She wraps both arms around Dashiell, secure and close, and if it's possible, Dash makes himself even smaller, curling up against her chest like he likes the tight, close pressure of her.

And then his eyes slip shut.

"Oh my God, Castle." She stops, her heart clenching and stuttering, and she feels Castle's hand at her neck and the small of her back, holding her up, the baby so heavy and warm in her arms, and it's a miracle.

"He's asleep," Castle breathes out.

"He's asleep." She lifts her head and meets his eyes. "You are fantastic."

"We did it together," he grins. "Partners."

She stands there stunned for a moment as she realizes - yes. Yes. Together.

* * *

**_6._**

Alexis curls up with him on the couch and lays her head against his shoulder. For a moment, he's reminded of how it used to be - just the two of them - how even when Meredith was still here, it was just the two of them exploring the world together.

"Remember when you and I used to go to the park?" he says, a smile stretching his lips. He turns off the Baby Einstein DVD that was playing for Dash before Kate took him back for a nap, and he looks at his daughter. "Remember how you used to beg-"

"Yeah," she chuckles. "The one with the bear statues. I loved that park."

"You always wanted to climb into the bear's arms, but you didn't want to get that high. So I'd hold you up."

"I wanted to hug them," Alexis says, lifting her head from his shoulder. "I loved those bears. Something about them seemed. . .like a fairy tale. Like Goldilocks and all the others were alive somewhere and I could see them in that statue."

"Yeah?" he smiles, his heart full at the thought that he did something good for her just by taking her to the park. And the thought that he'll get to do the same for Dashiell, that he and his son will go see those same bear statues and make up stories together and play on the swings and he'll be shaping his son's life.

"Yeah," Alexis sighs. "Like I was Alice. And those statues were a looking glass."

"You know it makes me so proud when you allude to literature," he murmurs, hugging her around the shoulders.

She laughs and lifts her head to kiss his cheek, squeezing his bicep. "I have class in an hour, but you want to meet me for coffee in between Chem and Comp?"

"Comp is. . ."

"Composition. I have an A, of course."

"Good job, pumpkin," he murmurs. "Proud of you. And coffee. Sure. That's at one?"

"Yeah," she nods, already getting up off the couch. "I guess you guys can't bring Dashiell?"

"Not yet. Too many people. Supposed to keep them at home for a few more weeks."

"Germs," she says knowingly, her face hesitant as she looks down at him.

"What?" he says.

"Kate will be okay?"

"I'll be fine," he hears from the doorway. Alexis blushes and they both turn their heads to see Kate coming into the living room. She settles on the couch beside him, one knee pulled up and pressing into his thigh. "Seriously. You go, Castle. Get out of the house. Drink caffeine away from me."

He chuckles. "True. But you've only got a few more days. And then he's totally on formula and you're free."

"Thank God," she grins back. "But in the meantime, drink one for me. Alexis, you too. I probably need a double."

Alexis gives a stuttering step forward and leans down, snakes her arms around Kate's neck and hugs her. "Thanks, Kate."

He sees the stunned look on his partner's face, watches her quickly hide it as Alexis pulls back. He reaches his hand out and wraps his fingers around Kate's, squeezing in gratitude.

"Okay, I'm heading out to class," Alexis says, still blushing but moving for the entryway, fumbling past them. She picks up her bag from the floor and slings it on over her shoulder. "Bye guys. Dad, see you in a couple hours."

When the door closes behind her, Kate loosens her hand in his grip but reaches up and strokes her palm over his shoulder, grips his bicep. "Castle, don't worry about leaving - you go if you need to go. Anywhere. Black Pawn or a book thing or. . .or whatever it is you do when you're not at the 12th with me." She narrows her eyes at him, a calculating look. "What _do_ you usually do?"

Oh, she's teasing him. Not nice. "I do. . .plenty of things. People to see; places to go. All that."

"Uh-huh," she murmurs, lifting an eyebrow.

"Is he asleep?" he asks then, can't help wondering.

She grins wider. "I gave him a bottle and got him to nap. Still a little fussy, but so much better."

"Ohhh, look at you. Super Mom."

She laughs a little, sounding pleased and surprised, and then she leans in and kisses his cheek. "You have fun with Alexis. And maybe in a few weeks, we can go meet her for coffee. All three of us."

"Sounds like a date." He's breathless as he speaks, and she can probably see how much it's affecting him, how his body aches and his chest feels too tight. He can't help himself. The words are practically automatic now. "You know. We could. . .we could get married."

She leans in and kisses his lips, tasting rich and dark, her hand at his chest as she samples him. He can't help curling his fingers at her hip and stroking up her back, his mouth pleasantly buzzing. And then she releases him and stands up from the couch. "Since Dashiell is napping, I'm going to too."

"Kate?" Sometimes now he thinks that she says no just because he asks, that by saying no she's actually saying yes to everything else, like having no contractual obligation to stay with him somehow _means_ more. He thinks that's crazy.

Kate doesn't answer, just stands in front of him and brushes her hand over his head like he's seen her do with Dashiell, her fingers in his hair, that nudge of her thumb to the side of his face as she turns.

And then she leaves him there.

It was worth a shot.

* * *

_**7.**_

"What about this?" he says quietly, in deference to the baby asleep in her lap.

Kate shrugs, sitting on the floor with her back against the couch. "I don't know. Do you normally do Christmas this. . .big?" she asks. And yet, her hesitance is already trembling before the clear vision of Christmas Future, the baby a year old, two, three - and how excited Dashiell will be, how he'll catch them all up in it again with bright talk about Santa and reindeer and little red cheeks in the cold.

Well, Castle, obviously, doesn't need a little one to be caught up. He's already there.

"It's normally. . .big," he answers. "Bigger." A wince as he meets her eyes.

She just shakes her head at him. "Then go for it."

He throws her a look and removes even more stuff from the storage bin. Stockings and ornaments she can handle; it's everything else that leaves her feeling a little overwhelmed. Garland and wreaths and candles and lifesized toy soldiers and nutcrackers and the Night Before Christmas and caroling and traditions and-

Oh, my.

"What is that?" she laughs. Because really, if she doesn't laugh, she'll cry.

"Ah, window lights. They're on this collapsible frame, so they fold out. And you plug it in. This one is a star. And I have a tree and Santa's face."

"Might keep him up," she says cautiously, her hand on the baby's belly.

"Yeah," he nods, glances down to his decorations. "Yeah, you're right."

He moves to put them away again, and she sighs. "No, Castle. Just - maybe we can put them on timers?"

"Yeah," he says, hopefulness creeping in. "I usually do. We can set it for just a few hours at night."

"O-okay," she answers. This is their first Christmas together. This is Dashiell's first Christmas, and Kate is lucky that Dash has a father who wants to make it special for their son. Even if he's only seven weeks old.

"Hey, he's awake," Castle says quietly.

She glances down to her lap where she's had Dashiell turned out to face the room, his head at her stomach, and she sees his eyes are open and intent, taking in the clutter around him, the tinsel and lights, and he hasn't made a sound.

She strokes her fingers over the top of his head, down his forehead, and he shifts, arms and legs moving in that happy bounce he has. She laughs and his eyes startle up to hers.

"Hey, baby. Watching Daddy go crazy for Christmas?"

But Castle's already abandoned his decorations and come to them on the floor; he puts his hand over hers on Dashiell's belly and leans in to rub noses with his son, his grin wide and deep as he hovers over them.

"Daddy does go a little crazy," he speaks softly. His eyes are on Dashiell, but she knows his words are for her. "But it's going to be so much fun now that we have you. You'll see. My favorite holiday - well, other than your birthday, of course."

And he's still talking in that quiet, happy voice to his son, still hovering over the baby and tickling him, hanging on to his fist, and Kate can't help reaching out and cupping the back of Castle's neck, bringing him up to her for a kiss. And his lips are so soft. So tender.

She _misses_ him. His body and his touch and the flare of heat between them when he's looking only at her. She misses him pressing her against the door or coming up behind her at the bathroom sink, misses hard and fast and intense.

Castle kisses her, the slow slide of his tongue inside her mouth, and she's immediately breathless, wanting, but he backs off, retreats with a brush of his fingers over her cheek.

"Oh yeah," he rasps. "Christmas is going to be awesome."

It really might.

"Come here, Dash," he says, lifting the baby out of her lap and bringing the boy against his chest. "Let me tell you all about it."

Castle stands from the floor and heads into the Christmas maelstrom, his mouth close to Dashiell's ear, their eyes both looking at the tree half-decorated in the living room.

Kate watches him with their son, the way he looks back to her with a little smile to share the moment, and she clasps her arms around her knees, doesn't move. He's digging through the stockings and reading out the names to Dashiell.

"What do you think, Mommy?" he asks, holding up a stocking with her name in cursive thread at the top. Her name. _Kate._

"I have a stocking?"

"Of course," he laughs.

She can't even say anything, just nods and rests her chin on her knees.

She's been telling herself she can always go home again, but that's ridiculous. Clearly ridiculous.

She's already home.

He's made it her home, time and again, since. . .forever. Since he met her, since her apartment blew up, since the moment she said she loved him.

She's got to start making it home for him too. All this time, she just assumed being in his family would be like putting on a hand-me-down sweater - the sleeves too long and tripping her fingers, and the collar horribly constricting around her throat, all of it too wide to be flattering - but it's not that at all.

It's something they create themselves, all of them, weaving together a new garment. Castle's been doing the work of reshaping his whole family into _their_ family, while she's just been existing in it, reaping the benefits.

They're partners in this too.

She knows, now, that when he asks again, she's saying yes.

If he ever asks again.

"Hey, Kate," he calls out. "Come help me hang up all our stockings."

She bites her lip but stands up and goes to him.

* * *

**end.**

(for the answer to that question, read** Everlasting Light**)


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